


A Winchester

by noobieninja



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, but it's mostly about adam, it's just HEAVILY implied, mentions of weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noobieninja/pseuds/noobieninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name is Adam Milligan, he’s twelve years old, he’s a Gryffindor, and this is the worst day of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> sudden inspiration? posting it when i should be doing creative writing homework pffffft yeah idk i just love slytherin power couple bbs <3

His name is Adam Milligan, he’s twelve years old, he’s a Gryffindor, and this is the worst day of his life.

It’d started out normal—he had Transfiguration and Potions, then Charms, and then lunch. He had the afternoon off from classes, when he hung out with some friends out in the courtyard. It was at dinner that his life plummeted down the drain.

The owls arrived, and a large, black one swooped down and dropped a letter in his lap. He sometimes got letters from his mom, so he wasn’t too surprised. He opened it up and started reading.

He could feel the blood run out of his face as he read. His mom was telling him the identity of his father, and that the man – John, his name was _John_ – had two other sons, who were older than him, both attending Hogwarts as well. One in fourth year, one in seventh.

Sam and Dean Winchester.

He was related to _Sam and Dean Winchester_.

They were the snakiest Slytherins to ever make their ways through the halls of Hogwarts—they ran the House, the school. They hissed and kept to each other, but had power over even some teachers. Rumor was, they were both Parstletongues. But rumors also said that people had seen them _doing it_ in the prefects’ bathroom, so Adam tried not to listen to them. What he knew was that they were Muggleborn, but they slipped into Slytherin without much hesitation from the Sorting Hat. Sam had straight O grades, Dean was smarter than he let on, and was the social one. But Sam was the one who had the whole world in his hand, the scrawny boy with cold eyes and Devil’s fingers. Even in broad daylight, he looked frozen, but they’d all seen him with charming smiles, cute little grins that only showed up when Dean leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Dean was living sunshine, hair that gleamed and freckles that melted walls and eyes that stole hearts and a smile that dropped panties.

They were _terrifying_.

Slytherin had become something of a gang since Sam had started school. Even as a first year, he was seen yelling at seventh-years and telling them how useless they were. God knows what they did in that House, what ensued in that cold, cold dungeon that they all slept in—that snake pit was one that Adam hoped never to jump into. Some said drugs, some said slavery, others black market deals, still others government corruption. None of them would be surprising, honestly.

Adam put the letter down gingerly, swallowing down the bile boiling at his throat. His friends went quiet, and one picked up the letter, reading it for himself. He, too, went pale, and whispered what the letter said to his friends. The entire table went silent, then erupted in whispers, and Adam suddenly felt all eyes on him, but only two sets mattered.

He looked behind him, and he saw Sam and Dean sitting at Slytherin table, next to each other as always, shoulders touching, Dean holding up a piece of paper. They were staring at him—Dean looked curious, almost intrigued, but Sam was smirking.

By now, the whole hall was whispering, the news spreading throughout the entire school. Everyone knew that the Winchesters were special, important people – whether that was good or bad was to be seen in time – and Adam Milligan was officially a _Winchester_. He was branded for life.

He could see it now—he’d be in his seventh year, with Sam and Dean’s names tattooed on his neck like a collar, and he’d be running their human sacrifice organ selling ring between Potions essays. The two of them, with their evil grins and their hypnotizing eyes, they’d have him by the neck for the rest of his life and probably after it, too.

He almost threw up.

The whispers were swelling to the point where the teachers were staring at this point, too, but they couldn’t help Adam. No one could. He was on his own, now.

Sam was the first one to stand up. Immediately, the school fell silent. The boy grabbed his robe, threw it over Dean’s shoulder, and stepped away from the table with the most grace Adam had ever seen in a fourteen year old. Dean stood up and followed while Sam straightened his tie and walked briskly towards the exit. Dean’s tie was lying limply, undone, around his neck.

Sam looked over at Adam as he passed the Gryffindor table, nodding slightly. It was all the prompting Adam needed—lest he get himself on the Winchesters’ hit list. He didn’t want to die this young.

He stood up slowly, shakily, watching the two of them glide out of the room. He swallowed again, looking around at his table. They were all staring at him with wide eyes; he was a _Winchester_ now. He saw one guy cross himself and kiss a shiny white gold cross necklace. He tightened his jaw, clenched his fists, and stormed out of the hall.

As he got to the door, he heard someone yell—

“Good luck, Winchester.”

He didn’t look behind him, just kept going.

He followed the sound of footsteps, and eventually light chatter of two familiar voices, until he saw the two of them walking ahead of him. They were standing so close, Dean holding both of their robes over his shoulder, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sam’s sleeves were down to his wrists, but the shirt was pressed, clean, perfectly white with only a stain of evil over the chest.

“The kid’s gonna do fine, Sammy. You worry too much.”

“That kid is our brother. Can you believe it? Hardly looks like us.”

“We hardly look like each other, baby boy. Dad always did say you took after Mom’s dad more than anyone else.”

“Whatever,” Sam hissed. “He’s in  _Gryffindor_ , Dean. God. Probably begged for it, belongs in cloud House. You see that look in his eyes? A real Gryffindor at least wouldn't have looked like he'd shit himself," he sneered. "You know what his grades are?”

“Adam Milligan, second year, Gryffindor. Has a specialty in Arithmancy, otherwise average numerically. Pretty smart with people, though. Popular in his House and with the clouds.” Dean rattled off like he’d been reading it off a paper. “Has been heard saying he wants to go back to Muggle world and be a doctor after he graduates.”

“What a fuckin’ idiot,” Sam barked out a laugh. “We’ll beat that outta him. Won’t we, big brother?”

“Sure will,” Dean grinned over at Sam. Adam watched with a queasy stomach, keeping his steps quiet to keep from being heard.

The brothers turned into a classroom that, presumably, wasn’t being used. Adam paused as he heard the door shut. He’d say going into that room would be the start of his new life, but really—the start was back there in the cafeteria.

He squared his shoulders, and walked in.

Sam was sitting on the teacher’s desk, one leg crossed over the other, Muggle smartphone in his hands. His hands were far too big for his body and the device, but he handled it with grace, just as he did literally everything else. Dean was leaning against the radiator near the windows, waving his wand a bit so the glass turned dirty and translucent.

For a long time, the only noise in the room was Adam’s pounding heart and Sam’s thumbs against the screen of his phone.

Eventually, Sam broke the silence.

“Yeah, they say he’s cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean turned towards Adam, looking him up and down. Sam did the same thing, putting his phone down.

“He’s a bit scrawny, don’t you think?” Sam asked, his eyes probing Adam’s body like a scientist would a deformed lab rat.

“Look who’s talkin’, Sammy,” Dean chuckled. “I dunno, maybe he can run paperwork.”

“Nah,” Sam narrowed his eyes, hopping off the desk. He walked up to Adam, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up at him. “This kid’s smart, yeah?”

“’Bit.”

“Why waste potential on running paperwork?” Sam grinned wide, predatory and sharp, like he had knives for teeth. “I say we put him in the Hellhounds Division.”

Dean raised an eyebrow behind Sam. “Hellhounds? Y’sure he can handle it?”

“If he can’t, so what? He dies, he never exists,” Sam straightened up, shrugging it off like Adam meant nothing—which he _did_ here. He had to remind himself of that, that he was just a small addition to their vast, corrupted world. “Not my problem.”

Adam stood there, trying not to make his shaking as obvious as he knew it was. He glanced between his older brothers, trying to gauge how much shit he’d be in if he ran right now.

Dean stepped forward, side to side with Sam. They stared him down until Sam finally looked over at Dean.

“It’s all you, man.”

Dean looked surprised. “You sure? I know this is your favorite part.”

“Yeah, but you make prettier results,” Sam smiled lightly, a surprisingly gentle expression for someone so— _snakey_.

“You’re a sweetheart,” Dean grinned back. He watched Sam walk back to the desk with soft eyes, then turned back to Adam, putting on a business face. “Y’ready?”

“For what?” he managed to squeak out. Then the first punch hit.

He wasn’t sure just how long it was, it felt like hours, but the whole time Dean was pummeling him, kicking his sides and stomping his legs. When he eventually let up, Adam was already bruising, he could feel it. He whimpered, trying to hide himself with his arms as if to protect himself from Dean.

“He’s a bit pathetic,” he heard Sam whisper.

“He’s just starting.”

“Mm,” Sam conceded. There was a soft, wet noise, and a smack that Adam didn’t see the origin of, but when Sam’s face ducked down over his, his cheeks were pink and his pupils were blown. “I have an astronomy class to get to. Don’t tell anyone about the bruises. Look up healing spells if you’re a bitch.”

He heard Dean chuckle a few feet away.

Sam grabbed his hair, pulling him up into a sitting position. “Welcome to the family, kid.”

He walked out, and Adam resisted the urge to curl into a ball and sob about his pain in front of Dean.

The oldest brother was watching him now, with intense eyes. But he was silent, so Adam stayed silent.

“I’ll give you one warning,” Dean said at length. “Because Sammy doesn’t like giving warnings to newbies, but I think it improves survival rates. Just—do what we tell you to, okay? You’ll live if you do. And if you don’t agree with what we’re doing, then,” he shrugged. “We can hook you up with drugs.”

Adam nodded, pulling a dry expression. He didn’t have any words for that—how was he supposed to respond with death or drugs?

“Sammy was right,” Dean murmured to himself, picking up the robes. “You’re Hellhounds material.”

Dean started walking out, and Adam sucked in a shaky breath.

“Dean.”

He heard the footsteps stop.

“What’re the Hellhounds?”

A pause, then a soft chuckle. “Dead men walking, that’s what.”

“Hardly an answer,” Adam turned to glare at his now-brother.

Dean smiled a bit, shrugging. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Oh, and don’t heal yourself. Makes you a bitch. We kept away from your face for a reason—wear the bruises with pride. Even Sammy did, once upon a time.”

_Sammy._

The name didn’t fit the cold snake boy he saw slither around the school.

But Adam just nodded, turning away again. He would probably get in trouble for coming into the dorms late, but it didn't really matter. He was a Winchester now.


End file.
